


The Honey Inside Your Hive

by TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Gaping, Anal Sex, Biting, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Breeding Kink, Butt Plugs, Cock Slut, Cock Warming, Coercion, Come Inflation, Come Marking, Coming Untouched, Copious Amounts of Come, Crying During Sex, Daddy Kink, Dark Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Dark Witchers, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Dubious Morality, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eskel Has a Big Dick (The Witcher), Extremely Dubious Consent, Felching, Fivesome, Forced Exhibitionism, Forced Feminization, Forced Orgasm, Free Use, Gangbang, Gaslighting, Gentle Sex, Geralt of Rivia's canonically huge cock, Grooming, Humiliation, Improper Use of Axii (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion Has Self-Esteem Issues, Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Kinbaku, Lambert is a little shit, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Marathon Sex, Mind Break, Mind Manipulation, Minor Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Minor Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher), Misgendering, No Safeword, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Painful Sex, Possessive Behavior, Power Imbalance, Praise Kink, Prostate Milking, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rapists being affectionate, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sad Ending, Scent Kink, Sexual Slavery, Sloppy Seconds, Spit As Lube, Spitroasting, Suspension, The Author Regrets Everything, Under-negotiated Kink, Unreliable Narrator, Verbal Humiliation, Vesemir fucks, Voyeurism, Wet & Messy, no beta we die like stregobor fucking should have, no happy ending, so much crying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29559033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG/pseuds/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG
Summary: He's distantly aware of his already weak resolve breaking, finally, and he doesn't really care. If Jaskier wants to get fucked so desperately, Geralt will oblige him.______________________________________This is a DEAD DOVE story! Please check the tags carefully!
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert/Vesemir, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion/Vesemir, Jaskier | Dandelion/Witchers
Comments: 48
Kudos: 261





	1. You Let Me Violate You

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very anxious about posting this on main since this is pretty messed up from start to finish and that is Not My Brand. But I put too much work into this to not post it on main so here we are.
> 
> I've gone down quite the dark rabbit hole recently and this came out. Just a lot of extremely dubious consent and Jaskier being fucked by all the Witchers to within an inch of his life. If you've read Improvement which started off bad and got better, this is the polar opposite of that. It starts off nice-ish and gets progressively worse. There will be no happy ending. Jaskier will not be saved.
> 
> Things to keep in mind here: this is Geralt's POV. He sees what he wants to see. That said, this Jaskier is very young, pretty naive and easily impressed, and there is an obvious imbalance in both lived experience and power. It's very easy for Geralt to get him to do what he wants, to "consent."
> 
> The only upside - in the very loosest sense of the term - is that none of the Witchers physically hurt him on purpose. There is a shit ton of emotional abuse and gaslighting but no physical harm done for the purpose of hurting or punishing him.
> 
> Updates on Sundays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: grooming, dubious consent, loss of virginity, mildly painful sex

Jaskier has been travelling with him for a couple of months now, attaching himself to the Witcher with a stubbornness and perseverance Geralt can't help but admire. Then again, the bard is young, and foolish. Stubbornness and perseverance are the privilege of the very young.

It has been clear from the start that the kid is absolutely dying to choke himself on Geralt's dick. Jaskier isn't exactly subtle. The first time Geralt bathes in front of him, the bardling nearly swallows his own tongue and excuses himself with ears and cheeks that are cherry red. When he returns, he's markedly calmer and stinks of his seed.

It would be so easy.

Alas, the bard lives and breathes drama, and since he hasn't been run off so far, Geralt is pretty sure the only way he could get rid of Jaskier after he has fucked him would be to kill the kid. Geralt isn't a good man, but he's not a murderer. Not like that, anyway.

He holds out for three months, three excruciating months during which he's near constantly enveloped in a cloud of Jaskier's ever-present arousal. Still, Geralt sticks to his plan. No entanglement with the already stupidly clingy human.

Then he walks into the clearing where they have made camp, still pumped up on adrenaline after a hunt, only to find the bard with his arse in the air, two of his slim fingers stuffed into himself as he fucks his fist. He hasn't noticed the Witcher standing beside his bedroll, keeps fucking those fingers into himself, and then he whimpers something.

It's a word. A name.

Geralt's name.

He's distantly aware of his already weak resolve breaking, finally, and he doesn't really care. If Jaskier wants to get fucked so desperately, Geralt will oblige him.

He drops his swords onto the ground next to the bedroll, and Jaskier nearly jumps out of his skin. He looks scared for a second, then apologetic, then deeply embarrassed. His mouth snaps shut when Geralt unlaces his trousers.

He should probably start slow. Let the kid suck him off, get him used to Geralt's size, but that could scare him and make actually fucking him that much more difficult. So Geralt pushes his fingers into the bard's already slick hole, not missing the way Jaskier's eyes widen at the stretch. Two of Geralt's fingers are a very different experience than two of his own.

By four fingers, Jaskier is shaking like a leaf, his cock red and leaking against his belly, and when Geralt finally, _finally,_ pushes into him, he whines and cries but never once tells the Witcher to stop. Geralt wouldn't be surprised if he did - his cock is as thick as Jaskier's wrist and long enough to just barely distend Jaskier's stomach when fully seated in him, and for all his bravado, Geralt suspects that the kid is a virgin.

Well. Was a virgin.

Still, he takes Geralt's cock beautifully, panting and quivering when Geralt stuffs the last few inches into him, the bard's breath hitching when they are fully pressed together.

"There you go," Geralt says softly, "what you've wanted this whole time."

Jaskier's eyes flutter closed, and he fucking _smiles_. Geralt manages to keep control of himself for all of five thrusts after that. Then he lets loose.

The bardling cries and wails, claws at Geralt's shoulders, and he smells faintly of pain beneath his arousal, but the one thing Geralt does _not_ smell on him is fear. Even stuffed to the gills with Witcher cock, Jaskier is not scared of him, and when Geralt flips him onto hands and knees, he takes that as well, assuming the position without prompting.

He whines and whimpers like the bitch that he is as Geralt reams him from behind, as he fucks him into the dirt, and when Geralt aims for his sweet spot, the bardling screams and comes without even a single touch to his cock, fucking himself back into Geralt's jarring thrusts.

Geralt doesn't stop. He pushes himself as deep into Jaskier's hole as he can go, his thrusts probably too hard, his grip certainly leaving bruises on the bard's pale skin, and still Jaskier doesn't tell him to stop. Instead he whimpers Geralt's name again amid punched out moans, and when Geralt comes, he grabs a handful of Jaskier's hair, pulls his head back and sinks his teeth into the long column of his throat.

Jaskier screams until his voice cracks, and then he comes again.

Jaskier's stomach is swollen when Geralt pulls out, just ever so slightly, just enough to be noticeable if one is looking for it. Geralt lets the bard snuggle into him as he drifts off to sleep, and as he watches the stars above them, he thinks that he may never let go of Jaskier.

* * *

Jaskier walks with a limp the next day, and by the time they make camp in the evening, there are constant tears swimming in his eyes. He stinks of distress and discomfort, and Geralt decides to give his little hole a bit of a break.

Instead, he pushes the kid onto his stomach and eats him out while he strokes himself, until Jaskier is crying with how overstimulated he is. He doesn't stop until Geralt can feel his own orgasm, just a breath away, and he straddles Jaskier's thighs and pushes just the head of his cock into the kid's loose hole. Jaskier cries out as he's filled again, whimpers as Geralt's come leaks out past the tip of his cock, and when the Witcher has climbed off of him, breathing hard, Jaskier curls into his side again and, in a quiet voice, _thanks him_.

"That was really nice," he says, completely oblivious to what that does to Geralt.

Something dark and possessive rises from deep inside him, and his arm tightens around Jaskier.

* * *

Now that Geralt has started this, he doesn't know how to stop. He doesn't _want_ to stop, but even if he did, he wouldn't know how to do that. How could anybody expect him to?

Jaskier is still sore for at least a day every time Geralt fucks him, but that doesn't take away from his enthusiasm in the slightest. Geralt only has to look at him in a certain way and the kid spreads his legs for him. It's lovely, and two weeks after that first fuck in the woods, they rent a room in an inn, and Geralt pulls Jaskier into the tub with him and kisses him.

They haven't kissed even once until now. Jaskier never asked for it - not with words anyway - and Geralt never offered, but now, with the bard perched on his lap, all warm and wet and soft, it seems logical.

Jaskier is a good kisser, the Witcher finds, not the slobbering, overenthusiastic way teenagers and young adults often kiss, and he leans back against the edge of the tub and allows Jaskier to do as he pleases for once. The bard makes happy little sounds as he explores, fingers gently moving over his skin as he presses kisses to Geralt's jaw.

He's feeling generous tonight, he finds. Eyes still closed, he asks, "What do you want, sweet thing?"

Jaskier sucks in a surprised breath, then nuzzles even closer, mouthing at Geralt's throat. "Can I… I want to try-" He sits back, eyes flickering down towards Geralt's cock beneath the water. Then he licks his lips.

The Witcher settles on the bed, hands linked behind his head as he watches Jaskier kneel between his thighs. He's not really hard yet but he's getting there, and when Jaskier wraps his slim fingers around him, his cock gives a pronounced twitch.

Jaskier _giggles_.

Watching the kid try and suck him off is in equal parts amusing and arousing. Geralt knows his jaw must ache almost immediately, with how wide he has to open, but Jaskier perseveres, just like he always does. He obviously has some experience with sucking cock, it's just that Geralt is so much bigger than human men, and it doesn't take long until Jaskier chokes as Geralt nudges against his throat.

Geralt could push. Could force Jaskier down on his cock, force himself into his throat - but why should he when the kid looks so fucking eager and determined all on his own?

It takes a long time, and when Geralt's cock finally pops into the bard's throat, he's red-faced and crying, but he keeps going, swallowing him down like he was born for it.

Jaskier smells so fucking needy, so excited by what he managed to do, so proud, and Geralt grabs a fistful of his hair, fucks into his throat a couple of times and then comes all over his face, into his wide open, gasping mouth. The bard moans and sticks out his tongue, and Geralt hauls him into his lap, slicks his hand with his own come and jerks Jaskier off with brutal efficiency that has the kid howling with pleasure.

They collapse together, Jaskier clinging to the Witcher as he shakes through the aftershocks of his orgasm. He'll fuck him in the morning, Geralt thinks as he watches the kid's eyes grow heavy, watches the soft smile that tugs at his still come-stained lips. Fuck him wide open and fill him up so he'll be leaking all day. Jaskier will probably complain, will whine about Geralt's seed running down his legs, staining his fancy trousers. He will wince at the ache in his backside.

And when they make camp in the evening, or find an inn or hayloft, Jaskier will spread his legs and let Geralt lick him clean before he ploughs him open all over again.

Seems like sometimes even Witchers get lucky.

* * *

It's not that Jaskier is weak-minded, or particularly suggestible. On the contrary, he's stubborn as hell, but he's also so fucking desperate for attention, for affection, to _please_. To please Geralt, to be precise.

It's almost frightening how easy it is to plant ideas in Jaskier's head. If Geralt were a better man, he would probably be horrified.

He's not, unfortunately for Jaskier, a better man.


	2. You Let Me Desecrate You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mind control, extremely dubious consent, public sex, orgasm delay/denial

The first time he uses Axii on the bard is an honest mistake. They're in a tavern, and Jaskier has just finished playing. Geralt sits in the darkest corner, as usual, and when Jaskier makes his way across the room, someone spits at his feet, calls him a monster's whore.

Jaskier's face goes red, and he swings around, lifts his lute and smashes it into the face of the man who said that.

Geralt is equal parts annoyed and impressed, but mostly he doesn't want to be kicked out of town. He's on his feet and by Jaskier's side in moments, grabbing the bard by the back of his doublet, and his other hand forms the sign almost reflexively. "Calm down, Jaskier," he says quietly, and Jaskier sags, just a little. He lowers the lute and lets Geralt tug him away from the man, and Geralt reaches down and pulls the man to his feet. "He apologises. He's just a bard, you know how they are. Emotional."

There's a wicked bruise already blooming on the man's cheek but he nods, obviously more scared of the Witcher than he is angry at Jaskier, and no one objects when Geralt collects their things and leaves, Jaskier trotting behind him like a dog.

It's heady, to have the bard this obedient, but he drops the sign as they walk out of the tavern. Jaskier blinks at him, confused. "What- What happened?"

"Guess you drank too much."

Jaskier frowns but doesn't question it further, following Geralt to the inn. In their room, Geralt lets the bard help him with bathing, then nods at the bed. Jaskier makes a face; he wants to bathe too, Geralt knows, wants to wash the dirt of travel off of himself, knows Geralt won't let him bathe after he has fucked him. Too bad for him that Geralt likes him best like this, when it's been a warm day and his smell is most potent, at its most animalistic.

Well, that's only half true. Geralt likes it best when Jaskier is so stuffed full of his come that he barely even smells like himself anymore. It's a shame human noses are too weak to smell Geralt's claim, although he sometimes wonders. The barmaid the week before had certainly looked at Jaskier rather oddly, when the bard had been leaking so copiously he left a sizable wet spot on the bench. Geralt thought he saw her nostrils flare, too, as she bent down to place Jaskier's stew in front of him.

Just thinking about the possibility has Geralt's cock filling out where he is still sitting in the tub. Jaskier has pulled off his clothes and is reclining back against the pillows, one hand idly stroking through the hair on his chest.

"Show me," Geralt says, and the bard spreads his legs, pulls his knees up. His hole is still slightly puffy from that morning, when Geralt had fingered him as Jaskier sucked the Witcher's cock. "Pretty," he murmurs as he strokes himself lazily, and Jaskier flushes.

He has been fucking the kid so much that it's easy to start with two fingers now, and Jaskier takes three without a problem. Four are quite literally a stretch, still, but he's nowhere near as incoherent with it as he was in the beginning. Instead he whines and rolls his hips into it, pulls his cheeks apart to make it easier.

"Think I could get my whole hand into you," Geralt says absentmindedly as he watches Jaskier's rim strain to accommodate him, and the bardling goes taut as a bowstring and comes with a strangled shout. It catches both of them off-guard, and Geralt stares at Jaskier's face, at the almost pained expression on it as he rides out his orgasm.

It was a passing thought, a throwaway remark, but now he _wonders_. Could he? He has heard about people doing this often enough. Never tried it, not when most of the working girls he's bedded started protesting at only three of his fingers. Now he's curious.

He splays his fingers, just a bit, slowly, and Jaskier groans, deep and guttural, an animal sound as he can't quite decide if what is happening is good or bad. "Geralt-"

"You'd let me," he says quietly, pushing in further, until Jaskier is stretched impossibly wide around his knuckles. It's not a question, nor is it a command - it's a statement of fact. Jaskier would let him. He has yet to say no to anything Geralt has done to him.

Now he gasps, whines as he throws back his head. " _Yes_ ," he moans, "yes, I'd let you."

 _Fuck, this kid_. "Does it scare you?" He pulls back slowly, watches Jaskier close again as his fingers retreat. Then he shoves them back inside, and Jaskier yelps.

" _Yes_ , of course it scares me," he says, breathlessly, when Geralt pulls back again. "We're talking about _your whole hand_. Anybody would be scared."

"But you'd let me do it anyway."

Jaskier looks up at him, and there's a peculiar look in his pretty eyes. "Yes." He swallows heavily, licks his lips. "I trust you, Geralt."

Something twitches inside Geralt's chest, something wild and primal, and he decides, once and for all, that the only way Jaskier will ever be allowed to part from him is if he's dead. Until then, the bard belongs to Geralt.

* * *

He doesn't _need_ Axii to get Jaskier to do what he wants - the kid is eager enough as it is, as he proves over and over. It's the knowledge that under the sign's influence, no matter what Geralt does to him, Jaskier will thank him for it. It's a horrible temptation he is powerless to resist for long.

The first time he gives Jaskier a command, they're in another tavern. Jaskier walks over to him after he finishes performing and when he plops himself onto the bench beside him with an exhausted cry of, "Gods, I'm _starving_ ," Geralt's hand has formed the sign before he has even really thought it through.

Jaskier goes limp, listing to the side and straight into Geralt. His body is hot where they're pressed together.

"If you're that hungry, nothing but my cock will satisfy you," he says softly, and Jaskier hums absently.

Geralt drops the sign, Jaskier blinks, and a moment later he slides off the bench and crawls under the table. He starts pawing at Geralt's trousers, whining because he doesn't really have room to unlace them. Geralt watches him struggle. "What are you doing, bard?"

Jaskier growls, frustrated. "I'm just- I'm hungry, Geralt!"

"And what does my cock have to do with that?"

"I don't know, I- I _need_ it, please, I'm starving!"

Fuck. He didn't expect the kid to take the command so easily. Jaskier stares up at him pleadingly, hands shaking on his thighs, and Geralt shifts on the bench to give him room. The bard smiles and tugs the laces free, and a moment later he has wedged himself between Geralt's knees.

Jaskier sighs around his cock as he takes him into his mouth, and his relief is immediately palpable. Geralt can't tear his gaze away.

He can hear the muttering start, the shocked gasps when people notice. He doesn't care. All he knows is the soft heat of Jaskier's mouth, the peaceful look on his face, and he goes from half mast to hard as steel within moments.

He fucks Jaskier's mouth right there in the tavern, blind and deaf to anything that isn't the sight of Jaskier letting him use him or the pleased sounds the bard is making. It doesn't take long until he spills down Jaskier's throat, murmuring praise unthinkingly, "My pretty boy, _fuck_ , my perfect little slut," and Jaskier hums as he swallows as much as he can.

No one looks at them when they leave the tavern, all the patrons doing their best to avoid making eye contact.

* * *

He doesn't use the sign often. Doesn't need to. Jaskier is always willing, always eager, and Geralt half suspects that the kid would bend over for him in a crowded room even without Axii. Still, sometimes, he makes use of it anyway.

He has Jaskier suck him off in taverns almost regularly. The looks that garners them always leave him feeling rather smug.

One day, Jaskier trips and twists his ankle, and Geralt pulls him up onto Roach, and despite the throbbing in his ankle, the bard doesn't protest when Geralt unlaces his trousers. He gives him two commands: he can't come until they make camp, and he has to strike up a conversation with everyone they meet, without letting them know what is happening.

They meet five merchants on the road, and by the time Geralt tugs Roach off the road when dusk falls, Jaskier is crying with sensitivity.

"Geralt, please, it hurts," he whimpers as Geralt dismounts, and the Witcher hums.

"Get down, set up the bedrolls, and then you can come."

Jaskier's scream is so loud he scares off a murder of crows that had been sitting in a nearby tree, and Geralt pets and praises him. Jaskier curls into his chest, sobbing, and when he has got himself back under control, he rolls over onto hands and knees.

Geralt growls, and pounces.

* * *

When autumn approaches, Geralt turns them towards the Blue Mountains, Jaskier following the way he always does. He does ask about where Geralt plans to spend the winter at some point, and when the Witcher tells him about Kaer Morhen, Jaskier fiddles with the strap of his lute.

"It's just… I was wondering if I could… come with you? I don't really have anywhere else to go." He bites his bottom lip, rubs his thumb and fingers together. "And I don't- I don't want to be away from you." His eyes are so big and blue, blue like the sky, and he takes a step closer.

 _Guileless_ , Geralt thinks. That's what the bard is. He lets himself be used as the Butcher's personal toy, enjoys it even without Geralt forcing him to enjoy it, and he's so fucking trusting it would make a better man weep.

"Of course you're coming with me," he says, voice rough. "You'd just get yourself in trouble on your own."

Jaskier smiles, and Geralt turns them off the road and makes camp. Then he ties the bard to Roach's saddle and fucks him until he cries again, and when he finally lays him down on their bedroll, Jaskier burrows into his side and whispers a quiet confession into his skin.

Again, Geralt finds himself staring at the stars as Jaskier drifts into sleep beside him. He didn't say anything back, because what was he supposed to say?

Witchers don't feel love. They can't. True, Geralt feels more for Jaskier than for other humans but that is based mostly on his usefulness. Affection, maybe.

He decides that that will have to be enough for Jaskier.

* * *

At the foot of the mountain, he Axii's Jaskier and tells him to be good to the other Wolves, to be just as sweet for them as he is for Geralt.

Jaskier smiles, and Geralt wonders if maybe the kid would have offered himself up anyway, even without the sign.

Worth testing at some point.


	3. You Let Me Penetrate You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mind manipulation, extremely dubious consent, forced feminization, misgendering, overstimulation, verbal humiliation

Jaskier is quiet on the trek up the mountain, too exhausted to talk much. Geralt almost misses his inane chatter.

There's a cave on the last leg of the journey, one where Vesemir stores emergency supplies in case they get caught in bad weather, and he tugs Jaskier inside and fucks him full twice. When they continue on their path, Jaskier grimaces, a hand pressed to his gently bulging stomach. Geralt kisses and praises him, tells him what a good boy he is for Geralt, what a sweet little hole, and Jaskier smiles and snuggles into his hold for a minute before they leave the cave.

When they arrive at the keep, Eskel is already there. Him and Vesemir greet them at the gate, and the look on their faces when Jaskier bounds up to them with a happy grin on his lips as he throws his arms around their necks before he kisses them sweetly is absolutely priceless. He can see their nostrils flaring, can imagine the questions he'll face later. For now, he offers his own greeting before he leads Jaskier inside.

There is already a fire going in his room, and he wastes no time peeling Jaskier out of his furs and clothes. The bard whimpers and strokes a hand over his belly.

"Please, Geralt, can I-"

"Not yet, songbird." 

Jaskier's eyes flutter shut, both in pleasure and discomfort, Geralt thinks. The bard loves the pet name, but he's obviously uncomfortable with Geralt's seed filling his guts. He whimpers again but doesn't ask, and Geralt kisses him gently and pushes him towards the bed as he pulls off his own clothes.

Seeing Jaskier in _his_ bed, naked and heavy-lidded - it makes that possessive, primal part of him howl in triumph. "Turn around."

Jaskier does, of course he does. He whines pitifully at the pressure it puts on his stomach but he _does it_ , lays himself out for Geralt like a feast. His arse is clenched tight to keep the come inside, and Geralt crawls between his thighs and pries his cheeks apart. Jaskier yelps, his hole twitching, and when Geralt leans down and licks and sucks at his entrance, the bard makes a broken sound.

" _Geralt-_ "

The Witcher hums, and forces his tongue into the kid; Jaskier groans and trembles under his hands.

"Please, I can't hold it," he whimpers, and Geralt pulls back.

"Then don't." Jaskier makes a noise not unlike that of someone getting stabbed, and then he relaxes under Geralt's hands. Come leaks from his hole immediately, and Geralt smirks. "Good boy."

* * *

He leaves Jaskier in his room. The bard had been exhausted from the climb, falling asleep moments after Geralt had fucked a new load into him. It's easier to leave him on his own here, in Geralt's home. Here he knows that there is no danger lurking, just his family and maybe some loose stones. No way for Jaskier to get himself into trouble, really.

Vesemir and Eskel are waiting for him in the great hall, and Geralt can't quite contain his satisfied smile. The old wolf frowns at him. "Explain."

Geralt does. He tells them how he met Jaskier, how the kid had attached himself to Geralt's coat tails pretty much immediately. How he had been gagging for it pretty much from day one.

"One thing led to another, and here we are."

"And you dragged him up here filled to the brim with your spunk because…?"

"To make something clear." He looks down at his hands, then back up at each of them in turn. "Jaskier is mine."

Eskel snorts. "Really? Wouldn't have noticed, I think you were too subtle. Should have pissed on him for good measure, really mark your territory."

Geralt rolls his eyes. "Will you let me finish? Fuck's sake." He runs a hand over his face before he continues. "He's mine, but we're a pack. And the pack shares all."

The expression on Eskel's face morphs from confusion to understanding to glee within moments. Vesemir is more subdued, unsurprisingly.

"Is he up for that?"

"He'll do whatever I tell him to do."

Vesemir's mouth twitches. "That's not what I asked."

Geralt sighs and rubs at his cheek. "I Axii'd him, just a mild suggestion, but even without that I know he'd do it if I told him to."

"Hm." Vesemir rubs his thumbs together. "Keep him in your room. We'll wait until Lambert gets here, then we'll discuss this." He gives Geralt a meaningful look. "As a pack."

Geralt shrugs. "Fine with me."

* * *

Lambert arrives three days later. During that time, Jaskier remains confined to Geralt's room. "For your own safety, we need to fix some things first." Jaskier is obviously unhappy about this, pouting adorably, but he relents when Geralt kisses him so softly, when he brings the kid off with hands and mouth every time he returns.

He brings him books from the library to keep him occupied and Jaskier almost cries at some of the old ones filled with Elven poetry, and then he asks Geralt to please fuck his throat. Having these books in his hands is a true gift, he says, and he wants to thank the Witcher properly.

Who is Geralt to say no to that?

To Geralt's surprise, it's Lambert who objects the most when the wolves sit down to discuss how to proceed. Jaskier has been allowed down for this, to meet Lambert, and after introductions have been made, Geralt has Eskel put the kid to sleep with a gentle Somne.

Eskel eyes Jaskier with a hunger that almost has Geralt feeling sorry for him - after all, he knows only too well what Eskel has in his trousers -, and even Vesemir looks more than just a little interested. They have been listening to Jaskier's cries and moans for days now, after all. 

Lambert, however, forever the hothead with an acute sense of justice, frowns so hard Geralt gets a headache just looking at him.

"You don't have to fuck him if you don't want to," he tells the younger man, "but if you do want to, he's available."

Somehow, Lambert's frown deepens even more. "Are you so desperate for some tail that you have to force yourself on him?"

Geralt growls. "He would've bent over the moment I met him." Lambert's eyebrow rises, and Geralt takes a calming breath. Jaskier shifts in his sleep, digs his nose into Geralt's thigh. "Axii came later."

"It's not right," the youngest wolf grouses, "he's just a kid. How old is he anyway?"

Geralt shrugs. "Eighteen."

Vesemir hums at that. "Barely more than a child."

"Oh please, we went out to kill monsters at that age, whether we wanted to or not."

Lambert grunts again. "I need to think about this."

"You do that. As I said, no one's forcing you to fuck him."

* * *

During the following week, Geralt and Eskel play with Jaskier all over the keep. As Geralt predicted, Jaskier struggles with Eskel's cock, choking and gagging around it the first time Eskel takes his mouth, but the small push of Axii Eskel gives him is enough to have him fight through it.

Normally he would be ashamed to admit it, but the moment Eskel seats himself fully in Jaskier's throat, the bard turning a lovely shade of red, Geralt comes in his trousers like he's a boy again.

Watching Eskel fuck the kid is just as good as he thought it would be. Jaskier cries and whimpers the way he always does, and now it's definitely justified when Eskel's monster of a cock forces its way into him, but Jaskier is a good boy, a good little cockslut, and when Eskel sits back and pulls him up to ride him, the bard doesn't hesitate.

He still cries and screams as his insides are rearranged, but he never falters even when his thighs shake so hard Geralt thinks he might just fall over. Geralt can't stop himself, he reaches down, lets his fingers tease at Jaskier's stretched out rim, and that's when, for the first time since Geralt has had him, the smallest hint of fear scent blooms in the air around Jaskier.

"Sssh, sweet thing," Eskel murmurs and tugs Jaskier against his chest, soothing him, "he's not doing anything, just admiring. Bet you look so pretty right now."

Jaskier keens and hides his face against Eskel's throat and slams his hips down harder, and then his back arches and he's coming.

"Hm, that's good, sweet thing, such a good girl for me," Eskel murmurs against Jaskier's throat, and the bard freezes, even as his body shakes through the rest of his orgasm. Eskel chuckles. "What's wrong?"

"I…" The bard's voice quivers. He sounds so confused, so uncertain. "I don't… understand."

"What don't you understand, sweet thing?"

"Why did you- Why'd you call me a girl?"

Eskel's grin is a wicked thing as he lifts Jaskier, making him moan, then lets him sink down on his cock again. "What else would I call someone with such a delicious, lovely cunt?"

Jaskier sucks in air through his teeth. He's even more confused now, a line appearing between his brows, and Geralt leans into his space and presses gentle kisses to his shoulder.

"Don't you want to be a good girl for Eskel," he asks in a low voice, and Jaskier makes a soft noise in the back of his throat.

"I- I don't know, I don't-"

"Just let it happen, sweet thing," Eskel says, mouths at Jaskier's jaw. "Just let me enjoy your sweet cunt." His eyes glitter as he meets Geralt's gaze, and Geralt reaches down between Jaskier's legs, takes hold of Eskel's balls. The dark haired Witcher jerks up with a groan, and Jaskier keens.

"A-alright," he moans, and Eskel rewards him with a kiss, deep and filthy.

"That's my good girl, just let me," he groans, tipping the bard back onto the bed. Jaskier's eyes flutter when Eskel pushes his legs up against his shoulders, spreading him wide as he sinks deeper. "Such a pretty cunt, so hungry for my cock."

He goes slow, watching, and Jaskier mewls and writhes under him. Geralt sits back against the headboard, stroking himself lazily. The bard is beautiful like this, flushed and sticky with come, so desperate to please. His mouth hangs open as Eskel takes him with deep, slow thrusts, making him feel every inch, and before long Jaskier's cock plumps up again. Eskel makes a pleased noise.

"Look at that, Geralt, I think someone likes having their little cunt fucked wide open."

Geralt smirks and reaches down, sinks his free hand into Jaskier's hair. The bard moans and turns his head towards him; his blue eyes are half-lidded and hazy. "Do you want Eskel to touch your little clit, Jaskier?" He strokes down his cheek, his throat, slides his fingers through the bard's chest hair. "Or maybe you want us to play with your cute tits." To drive home his point, he pinches a nipple, hard, and Jaskier cries out and arches off the bed.

"Fuck, do that again, wolf, she gets so tight." Jaskier cries out again, tears appearing in the corners of his eyes.

"Please," he gasps, one hand winding around Geralt's wrist, "please, I can't-"

"Ssh, it's alright, Jaskier, we'll take care of you. You just lie there for us and look pretty." He leans down and kisses Jaskier's slack mouth, licks up the tears now running down the side of his face. "You're so sweet for us, let us make you feel good, hm?" With that, he pinches Jaskier's nipple again, and the bard cries out once more.

Eskel forces two more orgasms out of the kid like this, and by the time he turns him onto his stomach and mounts him, Jaskier is half out of his mind with overstimulation. He whimpers brokenly when Eskel pushes into him again, that massive cock pressing in deeper than ever, and Eskel winds one arm around the bard, holds him close as he whispers filth into his ear.

"Pretty, pretty girl," he growls, "with such a pretty, pretty cunt," and then he comes, face pressed against Jaskier's throat.

When Geralt pushes inside after Eskel has rolled off of the bard, he curses. "Fuck, you're open so wide, bet I could get my hand in there with ease now." Jaskier whimpers, shaking and crying as Geralt takes him, and later, when Geralt pulls him to his feet, he only cries harder when the Witchers' seed runs down his legs nearly unimpeded. Geralt hooks a finger under the kid's chin and tips his head up, makes him look at Eskel. "What do you say, Jaskier?"

The bardling trembles harder than ever when he says, "Thank you for fucking my c-cunt, Eskel," and Geralt rewards him with a soft kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/formerly_as_g?s=09)!


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